Once Upon A Dream
by OnceUponSomeChaos
Summary: Emma can't shake the feeling something is "off" with her life. Then she falls asleep and finds some answers, and more questions waiting for her. Captain Swan feels galore, especially in Part 2 & 3. Takes place six months after the events of "Going Home". (fits with current season 3 canon)
1. Part 1

_**Six months after Emma drove out of Storybrooke with Henry...**_

* * *

Emma curled onto the couch, the drone of Letterman blocking out sounds of traffic below and scaring away her nightly pity party.

But only for a little while.

_There's no reason to complain. I have a good job, a fabulous apartment, and the best pre-teen a mother could want. I'm happy._

Her thoughts struck the familiar discord in her mind.

_Liar_.

Emma grabbed a blanket, wrapping it around her body to ward off the sudden chill in the room. She no longer heard the TV, too focused on the internal battle.

Her days brought contentment, a time she could just be herself and enjoy her son. Everything magically fit. But the nights cast her life in an odd glow, shimmering upon it until it shone like a glamour hiding a darker truth.

She couldn't shake the nagging sensation her life, at least part of it, was a lie.

Just what exactly the truth entailed remained a mystery.

_I just can't stand being happy, that's all. It's like The Matrix: I can't accept a perfect world, therefore it can't be true and I don't believe it. _

Sometimes, she almost succeeded in believing the excuse. Her past contained so much pain—a monster waiting to strike and steal away her happy ending.

But the nagging sense of missing….something—never left, it simply diminished during her busy days while growing into a loud roar in the quiet nights.

Maybe it had to do with her lack of dreams, or rather, remembering those dreams upon waking.

It had been six months—since moving to Manhattan—without a single remembered dream: no fairy tales, no nightmares, just a blank slate.

Her memory of dreams before her move was a jumbled mess: childhood nightmares remained in perfect clarity—typical monster chasing scenarios and the terrifying one where she was the only person left in the world, completely alone—as did a few good ones involving toy stores and unlimited candy. Then somewhere around Henry's birth, the details of her dreams blurred.

_I was a single teen mom raising a baby. Most of my life was a blur then._

Yet a few images—they had to be dreams—teased her memory: a dark-haired woman with a pixie-cut hugging her close, a sandy-haired man kissing her forehead, and a man with blue-gray eyes capable of seeing into her soul.

The faces were unfocused, hidden, and what she could remember matched no one Emma had ever met. Yet she knew, with absolute certainty, that these people loved her.

_That's because they are dreams from a time when I was alone with a baby and longed for a family to help._

So why did they feel like the missing piece, holding the truth beneath a magical shield? Why did she try to find them each time sleep washed over her?

Why? She had Henry—he was all she needed. She wasn't a little lost orphan who required a family anymore.

Emma snuggled beneath the blanket, tired of her inability to let go and just enjoy life.

_Fuck you, Letterman. Fat lot of good you did._

The pull of sleep whispered to her and she welcomed it—a safe haven from her unease and the one place she might find answers.

* * *

Emma stood in a forest, dark and threatening, the absence of sound disconcerting. She glanced down, shocked to find she still wore her plaid pajamas, feet bare.

The sliver of moon barely shed enough light to see three feet away.

Walking was not an option.

"It's about time you got here. I've been waiting all night." The tiny musical voice scolded her from behind, and Emma whipped around.

A fairy floated in the air, a green glow emanating from her body.

_Definitely a dream. Fairies don't exist._

Emma had watched the Disney movie often enough she recognized the figure. "Tinker Bell?"

The fairy clapped her hands together in delight. "You remember me! This is wonderful!" She performed a celebratory dance in the air.

Emma smirked. "Of course I remember you. I've seen the movie _Peter Pan_ at least a dozen times."

Tinker Bell ceased dancing, her brow furrowing. "Do you remember meeting me in Neverland?"

Emma wanted to laugh at the fairy, but something stopped her—a faded image just out of reach. "I think I'd remember a trip to Neverland."

The fairy frowned, muttering to herself, the words too faint for Emma to hear.

Emma didn't care what the fairy thought. She just wanted out of the forest, the sense of the trees closing in on her as if breathing entities was an image she couldn't shake and if she didn't leave soon, she'd never make it back to Henry. It didn't make any sense—Henry was asleep in their apartment, he was safe—but the feeling refused to leave. "Hey, sorry to disappoint you, but do you think you can help me out of here? This forest creeps me out."

The fairy zoomed in close, scrutinizing Emma, only an inch from her face. She let out an impatient huff. "We'll have to walk. Follow me." She fluttered away, faster than Emma thought possible.

"Hey wait, I don't have any shoes and I can hardly see. I am not going anywhere."

Tinker Belle hovered in mid-air, her amused laugh irking Emma. "This is your Dream World, Emma. All you have to do is believe to control it." She tossed an impatient look at her.

Emma groaned. Her dreams rarely ever gave her such power, the ones she could recall at least, but she humored the fairy.

_I need shoes._

To Emma's surprise, a pair of fuzzy plaid slippers appeared on her feet. "What the-?"

"Can we go now? The spell won't last forever."

Emma shook her head. "Hold on." _I want to wear my work outfit and boots_. She blinked and was instantly in her skinny black jeans, a camisole, and a red leather jacket, complete with black boots.

_Not bad. How about I wake up from this dream?_

She waited a moment or two, but nothing happened.

"We need to move. You don't have very much time." The fairy's annoyance was clear.

"Time for what?" Emma asked, but Tinker Bell was already ahead of her, her light a beacon in the darkness. "Hey wait up!" She stumbled forward, a tree root nearly tripping her as she hurried after Tinker Bell.

_Flashlight_.

One appeared in her hand and Emma grinned, flipping it on and jogging after the green speck.

* * *

The forest thinned, opening to a beach. Fog blanketed the water, hiding most of the ship anchored there, only a few masts and flag visible.

A pirate flag.

The setting was the kind present in most horror movies, designed to bring fear and panic to anyone caught in its web.

But the fear failed to appear as an unexpected emotion hit her: need.

_What. The. Hell._

Emma possessed no explanation; she only knew she _had _to get on that ship.

"Tinker Bell, how do I—"

The fairy pursed her lips, pantomiming blowing a kiss, and the fog separated enough to reveal a small row boat. She flew to Emma. "Hurry. He's waiting for you."

The words caused a heat to spread inside her body, confusing the hell out of her. The idea of someone waiting for her, especially an unnamed person, shouldn't have so much power. "He? Who is _he_?"

Tinker Bell gave her a smile. "Someone searching for his happy ending." She motioned Emma forward. "Go. Every moment with me is one missed with him."

Emma swallowed and nodded, wanting to question the fairy further but every fiber of her being screamed to get on that ship as soon as possible.

As she rowed through the gap in the fog, the oars slicing soundlessly through the water, it hit her who the "he" on a pirate ship had to be in a dream containing Tinker Bell: Captain Hook. Instead of turning around and heading back to shore—meeting the villain of _Peter Pan_ couldn't possibly be a good idea, could it? —she rowed faster.

With a certainty unknown outside of dreams, Emma knew he held the answers.

* * *

_**Thanks again to Arandil for being an awesome beta!**_

_**This is likely a two-part fic.**_

_**Review? What did you like? Anything you're hoping to see in part 2?**_


	2. Part 2

_**Again, continued thanks to Arandil for being an awesome beta.**_

* * *

_**Six months after Emma drove out of Storybrooke with Henry… continued..**_

_**Part 2**_

The compulsion to find _him_ grew stronger, not weaker, as Emma reached the top of the ladder and hopped to the deserted deck below—the continued lack of sound reminding her all of this was a dream.

_You're on a pirate ship and just talked to a fairy. Do you really need reminding?_

The fog formed a half bubble around the ship, avoiding touching it with its wispy tendrils. Instead of feeling sinister—as if the fog feared the ship or those aboard—the barrier reminded Emma of a magical cocoon, shielding its inhabitants from whatever dangers lurked outside.

_Magical fog. What will my mind come up with next?_

_And what inhabitants? Where was he?_

She couldn't hide her impatience, so certain _he_ would be waiting for her. After all, Tinker Bell had implied as much.

"Hello? Is anyone here?"

She hated the knot in her gut—far too close to the feeling of heartbreak from so many years ago—when her only answer was the silence.

_I bet a psychiatrist would have a field day with this—Captain Hook standing me up in my own dream._

"Swan. At last." The deep accented voice came from behind and she whirled around.

Not ten feet away stood a man wrapped in shadow—the moonlight unable to penetrate the darkness surrounding him.

_I know that voice. Why do I know his voice?_

She unclipped the flashlight from her waistband and flicked it on, the sudden glare causing him to shield his eyes with his right arm while his left remained tucked behind his back.

_Oh my God._

Body-clinging leather draped him from head-to-toe; the only hint of skin courtesy of his shirt's plunging vee—revealing a tantalizing peek of the dark hair covering his chest. With an earring in one ear, rings adorning one hand, and eye liner around his eyes, he should have looked like an effeminate Goth pirate wannabe.

She'd never been one for bad boys in leather—at least she had no memory of lusting after that type—but _holy hell_, he was sexy.

The pull that drew her to the ship tugged at her—insistent—leading straight into his arms.

She fought it—afraid to touch him—unnerved by how desperately she wanted him, even for a dream.

"Do you mind not pointing that in my eyes, love? It makes it bloody difficult to see you."

She quickly adjusted the beam lower, unable to stop staring at him like he was a decadent dessert.

_Maybe I'm hungry._

"Miss me, Swan?"

_Maybe this is a sign I need to get laid._

_And what? Tinker Bell is my pimp?_

He released a small groan and took one step toward her. "You're killing me, love."

She shivered, the warmth of a blush coating her cheeks, but refused to look away.

There was _something_ about him—something nagging in the reaches of her memory, like she knew him from somewhere but couldn't decipher where.

"Do we know each other?" She startled at her words, the question laced with vulnerability she hadn't intended.

A smile spread across his face and her insides twisted at the action. "Aye. We do." He stepped toward her and the flashlight hit his left arm, highlighting something shiny in his left hand.

It took her moment to make sense of the curved metal shape—the realization slamming into her.

"_You're_ Captain Hook?" She shook her head. _Leave it to my brain to twist the permed and mustache twirling cartoon into a sexy fantasy. _"Seriously?"

His smile vanished. "I take it you've heard of me." He closed the distance between them, and her heart sped up—not with fear, but the same need compelling her to him in the first place.

As if he was a missing piece of her nightly puzzle.

_How is that even possible? He's a villain from a fairy tale._

"But you can't remember me—," he caressed a wayward lock of hair behind her ear, the heat of his skin so close, but not touching her, "—can you, love?"

The longing and anguish behind his words cut through her and she wanted nothing more than to erase his pain. It didn't make sense—why should she care about Captain Hook?—but nothing in this dream was logical. "I don't—," her words cut off as she looked into his eyes.

The same blue-gray eyes that haunted her waking nights; the ones capable of seeing into her soul.

"_You_." The single word swelled with too many emotions: shock, relief, hurt, love… despair.

Her eyes watered, threatening to spill—she'd been right, the loving faces she remembered were truly the stuff of dreams. A deep cold settled within, chilling her. The pixie-haired woman. The blond man. And _him_. They were a dream. Not real.

_Why couldn't he have been real?_

She didn't hear him move—too lost in the tears streaming down her face. Then warm arms wrapped around her, cradling her. The smell of leather and _him_—why did she know his smell?—surrounded her.

_Why did this feel so real?_

_If it was real you wouldn't be crying in a stranger's arms._

His fingers stroked her hair as he whispered her name over and over, each breath racked with emotions simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. Her arms found their way around him, between his shirt and the heavy leather coat, trying to absorb his heat and chase away the cold.

It was so right. _They_ were so right.

_We are only a dream._

_It doesn't feel like a dream._

_Dreams don't last forever._

He must have read her mind—he was created by it after all—because he chose then to speak, his voice raw. "I don't know how long we'll have here and there are some questions I need to ask you."

She continued to hold him, her face burrowed into his neck as if her grip carried enough power to keep him here. "You're a dream. Shouldn't you have all the answers?"

He shifted position, using the hand in her hair to gently force her to meet his eyes—the eyes it hurt to look at. "This isn't a dream, Emma. It's real. You found me."

She smiled sadly. "You don't exist, except here. You never did."

"I do exist, love. I am here with you right now." His eyes—damn those eyes—burned into her, full of love and desperation. "I need to know where you are, where you live in your world. So I can find you."

_If only he could._

_If only…_

She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of the ridiculous notion of _him_—of Captain Hook—finding her in New York, even as her arms involuntarily tightened around him. If she let herself hope, even in a dream… "_No_. If I tell you—" She stopped, unable to explain how hope was a dangerous thing, even when unconscious.

He searched her eyes—finding _something_ there, something he seemed to understand—and nodded. "Look I know you can't remember me," he rested his forehead against hers, "but I can make you." He moved the remaining few inches, his lips brushing against hers—so tender and delicate and _not_ what she expected.

She expected passion and plundering—he _was_ a pirate—but not this gentle caress, filled with heartache and affection.

The same emotions slamming into her at his touch.

_She grabbed his coat, pulling him to her and crushing her mouth against his—inhaling his surprise as he returned the kiss with equal fervor. His hand found her hair and—_

Emma shoved him away and he didn't fight it, releasing her immediately. "What the hell was that?" The images flooded her mind—they were in a jungle of some sort and she was kissing him—almost like a memory rising to the surface.

_Like I could forget something like that._

Pain etched his features. "It was a long shot. I had to try."

_He has the answers. You just have to ask the right questions._

"Try what?" The cold seeped back into her and she dug her fingernails into her palms, fighting the urge to throw herself back into his arms.

His cheeks flushed—was the pirate blushing?—and he broke eye contact. "I'd hoped you'd felt as I do."

_Dreams can't feel anything and he's a dream._

_What if he isn't?_

_Ask him._

"Were we ever in a jungle together? Or is that another dream?" Her voice shook, afraid of the answer. Either she was losing her mind—believing Captain Hook actually existed and she _knew_ him—or she'd lost her mind and memory at one point and _couldn't_ remember him.

Neither answer appealed to her, both equally disturbing.

Blatant shock crossed his features, along with a far more disconcerting emotion: hope. "Aye, we spent time in Nev—" he cut himself off, giving her a wry grin, "—a jungle." He took a single step toward her, searching her gaze. "What do you remember us doing in the jungle, love?"

"—_their tongues tasting the rum on the other's, not wanting to let go—her body on fire—but it was too much, too intimate—it wasn't just a kiss, it was more—fighting to breathe, pulling away, not too far, foreheads touching—"_

Heat stole over her cheeks as more of the memory hit her—and it _had_ to be a memory, too powerful not to be—and dammit, the pirate _knew_, because his eyes darkened and focused on her lips, as if he read her mind.

"What do you remember, Emma?" His voice deepened, sending a shiver through her body.

"I—you—we—," she stepped toward him with each word: unsure of what to say, what to believe, but unable to ignore the force pulling her towards him. "It isn't possible."

_Was it?_

_Is my life a lie?_

_What else isn't real?_

"If there is one thing I've learned from you, love, it's that almost anything is possible." She was close to him now—within touching distance—but he didn't reach for her, the pirate's arms remaining infuriatingly at his sides, his only movement switching his balance to his toes and leaning in with his body, his eyes filled with a mischief. "If you can't handle telling me about it, perhaps you could show me what you remember."

It was a challenge—a dare—and the moment reminded her of another, the memory fuzzy, hanging just out of focus.

_This is your dream. You have the power._

_Show him._

_But if this is real…._

_If it's real you'll have your answers. And a pirate._

_Show him._

_Trust him. _

She grabbed his coat and yanked him toward her.

* * *

**_To be continued..._**

* * *

**Review?**

_**Did you love it? If so what did you love? Did you hate it? Did something not work for you? Feedback always appreciated.**_


	3. Part 3

_**Since it's been a while since I've updated... Previously on Once Upon a Dream:**_

* * *

"If there is one thing I've learned from you, love, it's that almost anything is possible." She was close to him now—within touching distance—but he didn't reach for her, the pirate's arms remaining infuriatingly at his sides, his only movement switching his balance to his toes and leaning in with his body, his eyes sparkling with a mischief. "If you can't handle telling me about it, perhaps you could show me what you remember."

It was a challenge—a dare—and the moment reminded her of another, the memory fuzzy, hanging just out of focus.

_This is your dream. You have the power._

_Show him._

_But if this is real…._

_If it's real you'll have your answers. And a pirate._

_Show him._

_Trust him. _

She grabbed his coat and yanked him toward her.

* * *

**_And now... the conclusion..._**

* * *

_Oh. My. God._

The pervading cold vanished the moment she crushed her mouth against his.

_She was on fire._

His lips were hot against hers, meeting her every move perfectly—too perfectly—as if they'd performed this dance before.

_No! It's a dream._

_Does he feel like a dream?_

Her fingers found his hair, tugging him closer as she nipped at his lower lip with her teeth, demanding entry.

A moan ripped from his throat, the vibrations echoing through her as he parted his lips, waiting for her, his fingers sliding along her shoulder, her neck, threading deep into her hair. His touch was light, almost delicate—leaving her in full control.

She slipped her tongue into his mouth, finding his waiting for hers and—

Her mind exploded when millions of memories slammed into her at once, a tidal wave knocking her off of her feet. She staggered forward, vaguely aware of his arms catching her.

The jumbled pieces scrambled to fit together and Emma fought to decipher fact from fiction.

_Either I'm having the most elaborate, overly complicated and sensory dream in existence, or Hook is an extractor like in the movie Inception._

_Or somehow I spent last year in a town that no longer exists where the Evil Queen adopted Henry, Rumplestilskin is his grandfather, I'm the Savior and broke a curse, I learned I'm the product of true love via Snow White and Prince Charming, and I became far too attached to Captain Hook while in Neverland and might—_

"Swan, are you all right?" He cradled her close, something resembling panic on his face.

Her mind quieted, her eyes focusing on his. "Hook?" Her fingers reached for him, brushing a flip of hair out of his eyes before she realized what she was doing.

The worry melted from his face, and his eyes—dear god _those eyes_—filled with such relief and joy she couldn't help but smile in response.

"Aye, love?" He helped her upright as he spoke, pulling her body even closer, until they shared the breaths between them.

"I remember. How—" Unable to form the words she wanted to say, she brushed her lips against his, once, twice, feeling his fingers grip her tight as a sigh escaped from him.

_How could I have forgotten this?_

_Forgotten him?_

Guilt sliced through her.

_I thought I was an orphan with no one but my son. That's why I started dating Walsh._

_Thank god I've been taking it slow, or else…_

_I didn't know._

_But I do now._

_If I ever have to deal with another damn curse..._

"You're going to kill me, darling, if you keep that up." He didn't pull away though, instead resting his forehead against hers again, his hand seeking hers and lacing their fingers together. "Sadly our time is here is not infinite and I require your help."

She squeezed his hand, finding the warmth reassuring and just… _right_… even as her mind screamed for answers. "What the hell is going on, Hook? What is this place?"

"It's a dream realm, a place between worlds where one can travel when asleep. A number of them exist and the problem is locating the correct one—one where you can control your actions." His hook pressed into her lower back, tugging her toward him until no space remained between them, as if the distance between them was still too great. "And once I learned that…well…all I needed was a little magic to make sure you found me."

_Is that all?_

"How did you find me?"

"Rum, or rather, the bottle of it you shared with me."

"You found me with a rum bottle?" She thought nothing could surprise her anymore.

"The spell required an object you'd had contact with and since the curse took everything you'd left in Storybrooke…well, let's just say I am very glad I never go anywhere without it."

His thumb traced the inside of her wrist and a shiver raced through her body at the tiny caress. "I don't understand. This is still a dream. We shouldn't be able to—" she swallowed as another shiver hit her "—_touch_ each other."

"A reason I will be sure to thank Tinker Bell for the bit of pixie dust she added to Regina's spell. It seems to have done the trick."

"Regina helped you?"

"She hasn't dealt well with the loss of Henry. It has made her actions… a bit drastic."

_I don't want to know_.

The memories were sorted now—giving up Henry, Storybrooke, the curse, and the reason her life in New York never seem to fit. She knew reality from fiction, but couldn't shake the eerie familiarity of their interactions—and another thought hit her. "We've done this before, haven't we?"

Sadness drifted into his eyes for a moment before vanishing. "Aye, love. Twice."

_What the hell?_

_If I don't recall those… what if this is somehow erased?_

"What happened?"

"Without the use of pixie dust I was unable to return your memories. And without those, you proved most reluctant to help me." He sighed and squeezed her hand again. "I need to know where you are in your world."

_So I can find you._

The unsaid words hung in the air.

_He's trying to find me. He wants to find me._

_He has no idea…_

"Manhattan. We live in Manhattan. On the upper west side. But Hook, there's something I should—." Her words cut off as his mouth found hers and she sensed desperation behind his actions.

She could almost hear his thoughts shouting at her. _Tick tock. Dreams don't last forever. Don't forget me, love._

Her free hand threaded into his hair, begging him to deepen the kiss.

_I can't forget this. I need to make this a dream I remember._

With a groan he complied, his tongue slipping inside and fire raced down her limbs.

Every sense in this realm was somehow heightened, each touch and taste more potent, the pull between them strengthening with each touch, demanding she release any inhibitions her waking self would use as an excuse.

_I have to remember._

She guided his hand—still entwined with hers—until it reached her chest, slipping her fingers from his and pressing his palm onto her breast.

He growled in response and used his body to push her backwards as his thumb played with her beneath the thin material of her shirt.

A moan slipped from her lips.

_Why didn't I do this sooner?_

They stumbled across the deck—her free hand pulling his shirt free and loosening a few buttons on his vest, his hook easing down one side of her shirt as his hand teased her body—until her back hit the mast.

She leaned into it and wrapped one leg around him, rotating her hips against his length. He broke the kiss and unwrapped her leg—uttering a string of curses as he fought to regain his breath.

She struggled to hold back her frustration, hiding it with a smile. "What's the problem, Hook? Can't handle it?"

"Bloody hell, Emma! I will not have our first time take place in a dream you might not remember, no matter how tempting it may be."

His passionate words hit her, and for a moment, she wanted to challenge his resolve, no matter the consequences. The spaces separating them allowed the heat to escape and cold spread throughout her, even where his body touched hers, the chill bringing a dose of harsh reality with it.

_What the hell am I doing?_

_Hook's trying to rescue me and I'm practically ripping his clothes off in an attempt to have hot, dream realm sex, whatever that means._

_I probably won't remember this._

_Again._

_But he might._

_Oh god, he might remember everything._

_And if I still believe my life is real, I won't know to break up with Walsh. I'll keep seeing him._

_Because I like him._

_But I lo_—

_I have to warn Hook._

"I'm seeing someone." The words blurted out before she could think of a better way to tell him. "For the last few months. His name is Walsh and he's nice and I thought Henry needed a good male role model in his life and—," she paused, a piece of her breaking as she caught the agony on Hook's face, "—I _need_ you to find me because I can't remember you. Or my parents. I thought.. I thought all I had was Henry."

His eyes destroyed her—the pain shining in the blue depths. "Are you happy, love?"

She cradled his face in her hands, one thumb tracing the line of his jaw as she tried to make him understand. "I am, but my life, my _whole_ life, is based on a lie. And I am so tired of lies." She whispered her address to him. "Find me. Soon."

_Before I fall in love with Walsh and the life that doesn't belong to me._

_Because I already…_

_Goddammit!_

_...I already love Hook._

She tried to tell him through her eyes what she couldn't speak in words, even in this realm.

"I will always find you, Swan." This time the kiss was gentle, light, but the power of it beat back the cold again and—thankfully—hurt no longer filled his eyes. "Not a day has gone by I've not thought of you, but matters have grown complicated in the Enchanted Forest and the path back to you has proven more difficult than I'd hoped." Another brush of his lips. "But I am coming for you, make no mistake."

_He will find me._

_He kept his promise to think of me._

_He will keep this one._

_Hopefully before I unwittingly hurt all three of us._

"I'll try to remember."

She had to.

_It won't work. I never remember my dreams._

_Regina's magic is strong._

_But I'll try._

_She isn't the only one with magic. Maybe mine will be enough._

_What if it isn't?_

_Then my life might turn into romantic triangle clusterfuck._

"I will succeed. And if you don't remember, well then," he smiled at her, "we'll get to do this all over again."

"This?" It occurred to her she had no idea how he'd returned her memories within the dream. "How did you break the spell and make me remember?"

His only answer was another kiss, this time slow and thorough, taking the time to taste her as if it was their first all over again. Her body melted into his, seeking as much contact as possible as she met each move of his mouth.

The first hint that something changed was a tingle in her toes—not unlike when her foot fell asleep.

Hook pulled her tighter, as if he sensed it too, but refused to stop the kiss.

The numb sensation travelled up her legs and she stiffened as fear hit her, pulling her lips from his. "Hook?"

"It's all right, love. You're waking up. Let's not waste these last few moments." His mouth covered hers again and she strengthened her grip, pretending if she held tight enough he would return with her.

_Don't let this end. Please._

She couldn't feel her torso now and was afraid if she glanced down, half her body would be missing, vanishing from the dream piece by piece. She focused on his face instead, drinking in the the obvious love etched upon it and accepting it for the first time.

_I can't lose this._

"Save me," she whispered against his lips. "Please."

"As you wish."

And it hit her as his heat left her, a smile of promise spread across his face as he vanished from her grip, exactly how he'd broken the spell.

Or rather, how _she_ had, when she'd yanked him towards her.

_True love's kiss._

And then she was cold, shivering on the couch as the TV droned in the background—some infomercial—the sun creeping into the windows and chasing away the dream.

_Hook Hook Hook. Remember…_

Emma yawned and stretched, blinking back the sleep from her eyes, suddenly craving a strong cup of coffee.

She stood, cursing the tight muscles from sleeping on the couch as a nagging sense she was missing.. _something_.. tugged at her memory.

_It was a dream._

_I think it was dream._

_There was something I was supposed to remember from it._

She walked into the kitchen, starting the coffee, noting the time and how she had to wake up Henry soon.

_Maybe I didn't dream after all._

She drank her coffee, curling into the dining room chair, wondering at the sensitivity of her lips as they pressed against the rim of the mug.

_How odd. _

She finished her coffee and walked to her bathroom to get ready before Henry commandeered it.

She caught her reflection in the mirror and froze.

Her hair was a disaster, darting every which way as if she'd tossed and turned all night. Her lips were red and swollen like…

_...Like I spent the night having hot sex._

All she recalled was watching Letterman interview the star of the big action movie coming out this weekend.

_Maybe I should watch more Letterman. Or go see that movie._

_Maybe you should get laid._

She shook her head, laughing as she pulled out her tooth brush.

She wasn't ready to let Walsh that close… yet. But maybe some time soon she would let him meet Henry.

She brushed her teeth, ignoring the tiny voice whispering in her head.

_Remember_.

* * *

_That brings this fic to its conclusion._

_As always, much love to **Arandil**, my fabulous beta._

_Did you love it? Hate it? Want to see something else happen?_

_I admit, it was rather fun to write a less guarded Emma, because when you're unconscious, your mind is free and anything is possible. _

_Including admitting you love a pirate and might need his help._

_**Review?**_


End file.
